


Jamison

by KiwiLombax15



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, The great tumblr offload, Trans Junkrat, mentions of deadnames, trans themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 17:09:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17026731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiwiLombax15/pseuds/KiwiLombax15
Summary: Names are important.Names you chose yourself even more so.





	Jamison

**Author's Note:**

> I think I wrote this for someone on tumblr but for the life of me I can't remember who. Still, it's good and I'd hate to see it lost if tumblr shitcans my blog, so it goes up.

The nameless boy lurked under the shade of a Quandong tree, hiding away from the days fierce heat. The bag of the raider who had tried to grab him sat between his mismatched feet, the original owner now pieces around the landscape. Safe at last, the nameless teen could pick through it at his leisure.

He wasn’t too happy about his lack of name. He’d dropped the old one long ago, scrawled it in his raggedy writing on paper and burned it, but now, like the hermit crabs the old men around the fire told him about, scuttling from one shell to another, he was unprotected. It was a vulnerable, naked feeling, to not have a name. But he couldn’t have just kept the old one till later, not when it burned like hot knives under his skin when he heard it.

Scraps and other doo-dads clinked under his fingers as he rummaged. Something chimed softly, sloshing about, and he lifted up a half-filled bottle of whiskey.

“Bonza!”

He yanked the cap off and paused. Old Jacko from the bar said everything had a spirit, capricious and wild sometimes, and they had seen fit recently to direct his hands towards an old binder in a bombed out house. It was a stroke of luck he’d likely never have again, and he poured a little on the ground as thanks. He owed them. 

The nameless child took a swig of the burning liquid and something on the label caught his eye. Carefully, he squinted at the fancy lettering on the bottle.

“J-ami-Jamissson. Jamison. Cor!”

Suddenly the liquid in the bottle no longer interested him, as he swirled the word around in his mouth instead.

“Jamison. Jamiiiison. Jamison Fawkes. Mr Jamison Fawkes! Jamie. James. Jimmy. Jamie…”

Something clicked in his head. The little crab scuttled softly under a deep, welcoming shell.

Jamison poured the rest of the whiskey out for whatever spirits were around, before gathering his things and slinking off for Junkertown, whistling jauntily. A new, fancy, rich sounding name. No treasure could possibly compete.


End file.
